


more a matter of whether i can hold her

by phenomeniall (desiredeffect)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, girl!Liam - Freeform, girl!Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:11:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desiredeffect/pseuds/phenomeniall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These moments, these are the moments Zayn thinks are rare – where  she gets to keep Liam to herself for a stretch longer than fifteen minutes, when their bandmates aren’t barging in on them to demand food or attention or a prank. When Zayn gets to keep Liam all to herself and the selfish thrill of it curls in her stomach.</p>
<p>“Earth to Zayn,” Liam murmurs softly, swipes the knuckles of her free hand across Zayn’s bare stomach. “You with me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	more a matter of whether i can hold her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Star55](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star55/gifts).



These moments are getting rarer these days, Zayn notes upon reflection. Not the same, bland hotels they collapse into after a show, there’s an endless supply of those. Same old beds with almost identical faux-jovial artwork nailed into the plaster above their heads, something that must _surely_ be a health and safety issue judging by how much the frames lean away from the wall.

No, it isn’t the hotel. It isn’t even the post show adrenaline surge, she thinks as she presses both her knees into the too-soft mattress, it tends to come and go these days, leaving her strung out and restless – looking for ways to act out or get out or _something_. The urge itches under her skin until she’s sure she’s going mad with it. Louis is normally good for these types of moods, pulling Zayn out from underneath security’s nose so they can both go get plastered off too much stupidly expensive booze and try to sneak back in under a pile of loudly hushed giggles. Louis is good for pulling her out of these moods because something about her calms Zayn down, takes the edge off. Zayn has, on more than one occasion, mentally compared Louis to the murky slide of weed as she inhales a joint and allows the feeling to cloud her head, her everything, until it seems like she’s simply floating in existence around nothing.

Louis is good for many other things too in retrospect, but these shaky come-downs after shows is when Zayn sees her in her element.

On days like these however, when the half-put on enthusiasm has drained Zayn to her core, it’s not Louis that she seeks out to centre herself. If she needs help finding her balance, there’s only one person that she needs to see. Harry is too giggly, Niall too sweet, Louis too _mental_ , but Liam.

Liam with her wide brown eyes that see far too much is perfect in these situations. She helps to ground Zayn in the present when she brushes fingers lightly against the short hairs on Zayn’s neck, when she leans up to let her mouth brush against Zayn’s exposed collarbone. When she smiles and reclines back against the bedspread, eyes crinkled a little at the corner. When her mouth forms Zayn’s name, the plushness of her bottom lip pushed out in a playful pout.

These moments, _these_ are the moments Zayn thinks are rare – where  she gets to keep Liam to herself for a stretch longer than fifteen minutes, when their bandmates aren’t barging in on them to demand food or attention or a prank. When Zayn gets to keep Liam all to herself and the selfish thrill of it curls in her stomach.

“Earth to Zayn,” Liam murmurs softly, swipes the knuckles of her free hand across Zayn’s bare stomach. “You with me?”

In retaliation, Zayn leans down to nip at the side of Liam’s jaw, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth as Liam’s smile widens. Zayn shifts then, hiking a leg over Liam’s narrow waist until she’s straddling her properly, before leaning down to press their mouths together briefly. “Sorry, I just—“

“Got caught in your own head?” Liam finishes with a hint of a question, even though they both know it isn’t, and her hand squeezes lightly at the base of Zayn’s neck. Her breath is warm against Zayn’s cheek when she exhales. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

Liam’s near delighted laughter is nothing more than a breathy huff of air. “Promise.”

Zayn doesn’t answer, just dips her head to let their lips connect in soft press, light and gentle until Liam’s tongue flicks against the seam of her mouth, nothing more than a few fleeting touches, another silent question. Zayn opens easily, greedily, letting their tongues slide easily against each other. It’s soothing in her own bizarre way, how Liam’s tongue strokes against Zayn’s own, playful and teasing by turns until Zayn reacts. Liam makes a noise, halfway between a sigh and a moan that’s swallowed by Zayn’s mouth.

They linger like that for a moment, Liam’s thumbs rubbing against the juts of Zayn’s hip, fingers of one hand brushing over the heart tattoo inked into her skin before they dig in and Zayn finds her back pressed against the bed, Liam grinning triumphantly above her. Zayn resists the urge to stick her tongue out.

“Liam,” she says lowly, though she won’t say she minds, “ _Liam_.”

“I’ve got you,” Liam hushes her quietly, smile dimming ever so slightly, “sort of.”

She draws Zayn up again, enough that Zayn can shuffle onto her elbows, while Liam’s arms slide around to her back enough to unclasp her bra, trailing fingers along Zayn’s arms as she slides it off. Liam’s smile is back in full force when she sits up to drop the article of clothing off the side of the bed. “Now I’ve definitely got you.”

“I’ll believe that,” Zayn drawls, sure to put a hint of a challenge into her voice, “when I see it.”

It has the desired effect, where Liam pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth and her brow furrows. “Are you—are you sure you want to play this game?”

“You wimping out on me, Li?” Zayn wriggles underneath her.

Liam follows Zayn’s lead of not answering questions, just leans down to press open-mouthed kisses over the curves of Zayn’s breasts, feather-light across the skin and Zayn breaks out into goosebumps. Zayn can’t help the arch of her spine as Liam closes her mouth over her nipple, tongue flicking over the nub until it hardens under Liam’s touch. Can’t help the choked off noise that builds in the back of her throat, and she will swear that Liam is smiling against her skin, even as her mouth shifts over to Zayn’s other breast, leaving a trail of wet kisses and swipes of her tongue in her wake.

_God_ , Zayn loves this, when Liam gets so intense, so focused on the task on hand, on _Zayn_ , that she forgets the rest of the world exists. On anyone else the single-minded adoration would be considered creepy but Liam’s so innocently sweet about it in so many ways, like how her fingers twist lightly around Zayn’s nipple so the sting pulls a light whine from the back of Zayn’s throat, or the way her mouth dips across Zayn’s stomach, pausing to scrape teeth over the heart, hands sliding down to hold her hips.

“Li,” Zayn shifts again and this time Liam does giggle, muffled against Zayn’s skin.

“You’re so easy,” she mutters quietly, then bites down on Zayn’s hip, nipping at the skin until Zayn knows that under the heart it’s going to be reddened and bruised before Liam soothes away the sting with her tongue. Her hands are pushing Zayn’s legs further apart, so she can settle fully between them, glancing up through her eyebrows to catch Zayn’s gaze. Her expression is verging on sly.

Well, now. If that’s the way Liam wants to play it.

Liam’s still wearing those ridiculous boy-cut undies when Zayn flips them over, the ones they can’t seem to make her get rid of, cherry red in colour and they’re riding up high along her thighs. Zayn can’t resist leaning down to mouth along the top of the hem when she eases herself into the gap of Liam’s legs that edge open even more when Zayn snags the edge of the material with her teeth and pulls.

“I don’t know why you wear these,” she grumbles, hooking fingers into the elastic to tug them down, muddling awkwardly through the motions to slide them off Liam’s legs and finally, _finally_ Liam is naked. It’s always been a little breath-taking, how far Liam’s come that she just lets herself go lax. There would’ve been a time that she’d giggle and blush, try to cover herself up, so self-conscious of any of them, let alone _anyone_ seeing her like this.

There’s no way that Liam would have been smiling down at her, shyly encouraging as Zayn bites down at the juncture of her thigh, making Liam laugh and wriggle, fingers curled in the back of Zayn’s hair and tugging lightly.

“Not today, Zayn,” she pleads quietly, and it’s like music to Zayn’s ears, “I really don’t want to play today.”

Zayn responds by licking along Liam’s clit, fast enough to cause Liam’s breath to catch in the back of her throat. Zayn settles onto her elbows as she leans forward, pausing to glance up once at Liam. “Sorry, Li,” she murmurs and repeats the motion, making Liam’s hips jerk minutely, “I didn’t hear you.”

She doesn’t hear Liam’s words hissed through her teeth, focused more on the way her breath draws in on a sharp exhale when Zayn flicks her tongue out lightly again before pressing her tongue flat against her clit and dragging it upwards slowly. Paying attention to the way that Liam’s hips arch up of their own accord, already desperately wanton in a way that only Zayn gets to see.

She fucking loves it.

People think that Harry and Louis are the most tactile pair in the group, not just with each other (though they do get into that shell where no one else exists) but with the whole group. Louis’ hands are always on something, in someone’s hair, pinching sides or biting necks while Harry’s are softer, more a reassuring and grounding touch. Liam just – from Zayn’s point of view – likes to _be_ touched, familiarly most often and, recently, more intimately. She thrives on it, the attention and affection, if the way she curls up when Zayn eases two fingers into her serves as any indication, the way her voice breaks over the syllable of Zayn’s name, the way she pets Zayn’s hair before curling her fingers into it and pulling, swearwords falling like promises out of her mouth.

“Fuck, Zayn—I—“ Liam swallows breathlessly and Zayn rewards her by increasing pressure against her clit, the pleased note Zayn hums absorbed by Liam’s harsh exhale.

Zayn doesn’t feel particularly gifted in terms of eating girls out, though she’s had her fair share of experience, but the way Liam shudders under her hands and tongue, the way she clenches around her fingers and moans, it makes Zayn feel like she could hit every high note in existence.

Liam is wrung-out, stretched thin upon the ground just like Zayn is, exhaustion overridden by need and—“Zayn, _there_ , come on,”– her gasps are reaching that tight note, eye screwed shut and Zayn strokes her tongue hard over the nerve, fingers  sliding in a rhythm Liam screws herself onto until she’s clenching around Zayn’s fingers with a half-shout.

Zayn tries her best to hide her smirk, leaning further down to lick around her own knuckles, feeling Liam’s legs twitch involuntarily, the breathless tremble of laughter the vibrates along Liam’s nerves. Zayn pulls her fingers out slowly, ignoring Liam’s low noise as she flicks a tongue around her entrance, teasingly light before driving her tongue inside.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Liam gasps, legs scrabbling uselessly on the bed until Zayn pins them down, licking into that heat until Liam is writhing above her, trying not to laugh and cry at the same time. “ _Zayn,_ ” she whines and she’s pulling away this time, so Zayn lets her go, making a show of swiping a tongue out along her lips as Liam sits up with a huff. They’re sitting facing each other now, knees barely brushing, and Liam’s smile is shy like it always is after sex, almost disbelieving in its own way.

Then she’s reaching out, pulling Zayn in until their mouths are mashed together in a semblance of a kiss. Liam doesn’t think before prying Zayn’s mouth open, hot and demanding as she licks her way inside, chasing the taste of herself and fuck if it isn’t nearly the hottest thing Zayn’s seen. She squirms a little, not willing to bring attention to herself and be _that_ demanding but Liam’s always been too perceptive for her own good. She pulls away after another moment, teeth digging into Zayn’s bottom lip as a sort of thanks. Her expression is guileless when she catches Zayn’s eyes, and she nods once.

“You here?” she asks, and Zayn doesn’t bother denying it, “Everything okay?”

Zayn licks her lips where they feel bruised, and Liam’s eyes flicker down momentarily. “I’m good, Li,” she murmurs after a moment, “on par.” And she is, of course she is, because Liam is so good at taking her out of her own head, letting Zayn work her own way through things in whatever way she can and Zayn loves her so much her heart could burst.

Liam still looks concerned though, head tilted to one side and thumb brushing over Zayn’s thigh. Zayn really wants to go back to kissing her. “You certain?”

“A hundred percent,” she confirms, then shakes her head with amusement, “ninety five, maybe.” Liam’s smile curls outward until it’s so bright Zayn aches a little. Liam’s hand tangles in her hair, pulling her close and peppering her with kisses. Her nose, forehead, cheeks and finally pausing over Zayn’s mouth.

“Good,” Liam says after a second, and Zayn barely has time to do anything but squawk with a certain amount of indignity when Liam turns them so she’s flat on her back against thousand-count thread sheets, “because I think I can help with that other five percent.”

Her smile lingers in Zayn’s mind, long after she’s ducked down to press her mouth against Zayn’s clit.

**Author's Note:**

> I do have a [Tumblr](dead-release.tumblr.com) if you wanna find me, but that's entirely up to you.


End file.
